


Savour

by brookebond



Series: Smitten [2]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Arthur forgot, Fluff, I had to include that tag, M/M, Romantic dates, Valentine's Day, because really, sexy asparagus, that's what the title of my doc was
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 14:27:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12278430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookebond/pseuds/brookebond
Summary: Arthur and Eames go to dinner.





	Savour

**Author's Note:**

> So I was scrolling through my Google docs today and I stumbled across this gem that I had written for the Inception Stupid Cupid exchange back in February.  
> This is a continuation of that.
> 
> Unbeta'd but I've gone over it myself. Sorry if there are any mistakes.

Arthur had assumed that Eames had meant sex when he’d asked if Arthur was hungry, but it turned out that he was genuine. They were currently sitting in a fancy restaurant, candlelight flickering and casting shadows around the room.

He had to admit that Eames looked delicious in the warm glow of the candle, but he had other plans that had absolutely nothing to do with eating food.

“Don’t pout, darling. You need the sustenance.”

“I am not pouting.” Arthur leaned back, fingers tracing the seam of his pants.

“No? Then I suppose that lower lip juts out normally then?”

Arthur glared at Eames. He was clearly playing with him. Eames knew what Arthur wanted. Arthur was sure Eames wanted it too. He always did. Arthur just couldn’t figure out why he was being tortured.

“Darling, give me this and I promise I will do anything you want.”

“Anything?” Arthur asked hesitantly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table.

“Even the thing with the ropes,” Eames said, his voice pitched low on purpose.

Arthur swallowed hard, suddenly feeling much warmer than he had a second ago. Eames had only let Arthur play with the ropes once and had used it as leverage over Arthur for months. But now… 

“Maple soy-glazed salmon with a side of green bean, asparagus, and artichoke salad.”

Arthur frowned. They hadn’t ordered anything but Eames cut in with a pleasant “merci” and the waiter left just as quickly as he had appeared.

Arthur raised his brows at Eames, waiting for an explanation.

“Is it because we just finished a job?” Eames asked jovially.

“What?”

“You aren’t normally this slow,” he said as he speared a piece of asparagus.

Arthur watched Eames lift the fork to his mouth, biting into the vegetable, his tongue darting out to lick at the juice lingering on his lips.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Eat.”

Arthur glared at Eames before relenting and picking up his own fork, stabbing at the salmon on his plate. He managed to get a few pieces of the fish into his mouth and conceded that the food was delicious. Arthur even deigned to let Eames know, but Eames just flashed a smug grin at him.

He might have been in love with Eames, it didn’t mean he had to like all of Eames’ moods, though, especially when the evening wasn’t going how Arthur had hoped it would after the opera. After spending five hours at the opera with his hands to himself, Arthur was fit to burst. He wanted to touch Eames, wanted to feel the hard planes of his body, trace the tattoos with his tongue, but he was being forced to sit through a late dinner with no explanation as to why he was being made to wait.

The waiter reappeared out of nowhere, clearing the empty places, leaving Arthur and Eames with just the candle between them.

Arthur leaned forward, steepling his fingers in front of his mouth as he stared Eames down, trying to decipher what the point of the evening was.

“Eames,” Arthur started, lowering his fingers so his voice wasn’t muffled.

“Arthur,” Eames cut him off. “There’s still dessert.”

Arthur groaned and slumped in his seat. “You are killing me.”

“You look exquisite when you’re dying.”

Before Arthur could think of a retort, the waiter appeared again. This time with the dessert Eames had promised.

Arthur stared at the little chocolate cake ringed with strawberry slices and lightly dusted with icing sugar. It looked delicious, but he was no longer in the mood to placate Eames. Instead, Arthur sat, lower lip jutting out as his finger traced the seam of his pants again.

“Darling, I promise I am not torturing you.”

“Feels like it,” he muttered.

“I honestly thought you would have figured it out by now. Or has lust addled your mind?”

“What are you on about, Eames?” Arthur bit out, sitting up and giving Eames his full attention.

“Valentine's Day, love.”

Arthur blinked, mouth opening and closing like an idiot. Was it February already? Hadn’t they just rung in the New Year? Arthur counted back the days in his head. “Shit.”

“There it is.” Eames leaned forward, reaching a hand out to Arthur. “Now, no need to fret, darling. I planned a very lovely evening for us.”

Arthur glared at him but found he couldn’t hold the heat. Eames had planned a lovely evening that he was ruining by acting like a petulant teenager just because he wasn’t currently at home getting fucked blind.

“Are you going to eat that?” Eames asked, pointing his spoon at Arthur’s dessert.

Arthur had basically forgotten about it in his sulk. But he pushed it towards Eames as something to do while he thought about what he’d done. Eames seemed to be taking it all quite well, like he’d planned on Arthur not remembering what day it was at all. Which seemed ridiculous at first, but the more Arthur thought about it, the more it made sense.

Eames would love the opportunity to hold this over his head. Sure, Arthur didn’t really believe in the hallmark holiday of Valentine’s Day but Eames loved any reason to shower Arthur with affection. Arthur should have known better. He was an idiot for forgetting. He was pretty confident he’d set a reminder on his calendar though. So this would never happen.

Arthur pulled his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled up his calendar. There was an appointment there—Valentine’s Day—but the reminder had been turned off. Arthur frowned at it. “You did this on purpose.”

Eames hummed questioningly around his spoon.

“You turned off my reminder so I’d forget.”

“Is that so?”

“I know you did it, Eames.”

“Oh? Where’s your proof?” he asked, flashing a cocky grin.

Arthur knew he couldn’t prove it. Despite his skills, there was no way he could possibly prove that Eames had turned off the reminder. Maybe Arthur had never set it, it was entirely questionable. But Arthur’s gut told him that he had set the damn thing. “Why?”

“Thought you said we needed to spice things up.”

“See, this isn’t what I had in mind when we had that conversation.”

“And I didn’t think we had any problems in the bedroom, darling.”

Arthur groaned. They were going to have the same argument again in a public place this time. “Can we not?”

“I really think we might need some specificity.”

“I should never have taught you that word.”

“Oh but darling, I use it so well.”

“Look,” Arthur said, sitting up and placing his hands on the table. He was all business now. “I’m sorry I said we needed to ‘spice things up’ but it’s just been so long since we—” Arthur waved a hand vaguely alluding to what he wouldn’t say. “I just thought if we did something different… Hand jobs in a toilet stall aren’t exactly romantic.”

“That was once, Arthur.”

“Okay so… Specificity… What if I checked into a hotel.” Arthur held up a hand at Eames’ sputtering. “I’m not leaving. Just, say I’m on business and decide to have a drink in the hotel bar. This guy sees me drinking alone, comes over and buys me a drink. We get to talking. Turns out he’s in town for business too. We spend the night chatting away and after a few drinks I invite him back up to my room.”

“You want to sleep with someone else?”

“No, Eames,” Arthur sighed, rubbing a hand across his brow. “You’re the other guy.”

“Oh,” Eames breathed. “Oh!”


End file.
